


A Seed of Truth

by LadyMuzzMuzz



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: 'The Emperor's Seed', F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Inspired by the children's story, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:34:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28609914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMuzzMuzz/pseuds/LadyMuzzMuzz
Summary: Prince Vergil has set out a challenge.  The woman who can grow the most beautiful flower by the fall, will win his hand in marriage.  You're a competent gardener, how hard can it be?
Relationships: Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Reader
Comments: 28
Kudos: 100





	A Seed of Truth

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired directly by the children's story "The Emperor's Seed" (an excellent story), I originally thought of titling it "The Prince's Seed", but I fear that it would give some of my readers the wrong expectations ..:D

Life went on as usual in the peaceful island city of Fortuna. Lord Sparda ruled with a benevolent hand over the people with his wife, Lady Eva, nurturing the arts and culture of the populace. They were the perfect couple, each combining their strengths and abilities, to lead the island into a golden age.

And then there were their sons, the twins Vergil and Dante. While the Lord and Lady were quite too busy to make regular appearances to the common folk, the Princes were not that restrained. Prince Dante was regularly seen chatting at the market, buying up lots of strawberries, while slipping the kids little chocolates and candies when he thought their parents weren’t looking, before racing off on his custom built bike.

Prince Vergil, on the other hand, was a bit more reserved. You’d seen him at your place of work, the library, deep in a book, or in the Fortuna Gardens, admiring the flowers, giving off an aura that he didn’t want to be disturbed. But when someone mustered up the courage to talk to him, he was kind and courteous, especially when the subject turned to his interests, such as literature, or gardening. He was a man of few words, unlike his brother, but he never minced words, always preferring to speak the truth over flattering speech.

What both men had in common though, was they were both devilishly handsome. With their father’s bone white hair, and their mother’s elegant facial features, the two men could look good in anything, whether it was formal outfits, as well their casual clothes (Usually a red leather motorcycle jacket for Dante, and a dark blue turtleneck for Vergil). And with both of them single and available, there was a large part of the city gossiping on who they might choose to settle down with.   
So it happened you were in the market with your friend, Sarah, one beautiful spring day when you heard the sound of trumpets, and the clanging of the City Herald’s bell, signaling an announcement. The crowds began to converge to the centre of the piazza. Ripples of excitement fluttered rapidly as everyone realized that the herald was not alone. There, standing behind the man were the twin Princes, both in their formal royal attire. Dante beamed like the cat that caught the canary, while Vergil...looked more like the canary that had been caught. You almost felt bad at how uncomfortable he looked, surrounded by so many people, but if he was here despite how much he disliked crowds, this meant whatever was about to be announced was very important.

“HEAR YE! HEAR YE!” the herald announced, clanging his bell one last time, and the crowd was silenced. Satisfied that he would not be interrupted, the herald continued.

“A ROYAL ANNOUNCEMENT! PRINCE VERGIL HAS DECIDED IT IS TIME FOR HIM TO MARRY!” A gasp came from the crowd, then cheers, which Vergil did his best to ignore. The herald rang his bell again.

“HE HAS DECIDED TO CHOOSE A LADY FROM AMONG THE YOUNG WOMEN OF THIS FAIR CITY!” Another sharp gasp, but everyone was so flabbergasted, the herald didn’t have to settle them down. “IN ORDER TO HELP HIM DECIDE, ANY YOUNG LADY WISHING TO PROVE HERSELF IS TO TAKE A TEST!” Two servants carried a sheet covered wicker basket, placing it in front of the herald, and then they carefully removed the linen “IN THIS BASKET, ARE SEEDS OF THE WHITE CHRYTHANSEUM FLOWER! ALL…” the herald attempted to form a word that didn’t sound so awkward, but failed, “APPLICANTS ARE INSTRUCTED TO TAKE AND PLANT ONE PINCH OF SEEDS. WHEN THE FALL MARKET FAIR ARRIVES, ALL LADIES ARE TO BRING THEIR PLANTS TO BE JUDGED, AND PRINCE VERGIL WILL PICK THE ONE WHO HAS GROWN THE MOST BEAUTIFUL ONE! A WOMAN WHO CAN GROW SOMETHING EXTRAORDINARY, WILL PROVE THAT SHE HAS THE QUALITIES THE PRINCE LOOKS FOR!”

“That seems rather...shallow,” Sarah muttered as already, every young eligible woman pushed aside the crowds to make a beeline to the basket, “but who am I to judge? Besides…” she grinned, “he’s pretty good looking.”   
“Yes, Prince Vergil is rather handsome,” you admitted. 

Sarah did a double-take, “Nah, I meant prince Dante, I wouldn’t mind if he bent me over his motorcycle and-”

“They’re twins! They’re virtually identical!”

“In looks, yeah...but personality, they’re night and day… and I prefer the day.” She looked at you expectedly, “Well, what are you waiting for? Go get in line!”   
“I couldn’t…” you protested.

“Oh come on...it’ll be fiiine, you’re a pretty good gardener, I’ve seen the plants you keep in your rooftop garden, you’ll grow the best fricken’ chryth- chrythan…”

“Chrysanthemums,” you clarified…”You can call them ‘mums’, that’s what a lot of people do. And…” you stared at the ever growing line of women. “Well, I suppose, worst case scenario, I’ll have a pretty flower for the autumn season”, and so, you went to the end of the line, ready to get your chance to spend your life with the handsome, aloof, but intelligent prince. As you took your place, you heard Sarah murmur, “I hope Prince Dante has a motorcycle race as a contest….”

Eventually, you got to the front of the line, and were given a pinch of seeds. You tried to keep your eyes averted from the two princes, as you wrapped them in a handkerchief, but you couldn’t help but glance up, to see the younger prince, still beaming, while his older brother stood stiffly, his brows furrowed, his arms crossed.

“This is a terrible idea, brother.” You heard Vergil mutter.

“Nah, this,” Dante spread his arm out, “this is the perfect way to find the lady of your dreams.”

“None of these women seem to possess the qualities I desire…”   


“Well, leave your pessimism until the fall...you can beat my ass if you don’t find what you’re looking for.”

* * *

You got home, and quickly brought out a shallow glazed blue pot out from your shed. It would be the perfect starter pot for it to sprout, before you could transplant into a flower pot proper. And then, you carefully poured a layer of sandy soil, before gently unwrapping the handkerchief and sprinkling the seeds onto the moist dirt. There was something...off about the seeds...like they were too clean, but you paid it no mind. These were most likely from the Fortuna Castle Gardens, so they were top quality, so even if you didn’t pay attention to the plant, you would most likely grow better than the average flower. But you weren’t just going to neglect this chance of a lifetime. 

Measuring out precise amounts of fertilizer, and a bit of water, not too much, not too little, you were going to put your life and soul into this plant. So much so, that the Prince would feel your love and care radiating out of each and every petal.

Ten days passed, with you constantly making sure that the soil wasn’t too moist, to discourage mildew, and keeping it under a fluorescent light, and yet no bright green sprouts poked out. That was alright, the flower had a variable growing period, you had a nearly two week span for it to begin to sprout. Every Morning, you had a routine. You’d wake up, and while your breakfast toast browned, you’d check on the pot, giving it a sprinkle of water, and when needed, a dusting of fertilizer, before setting it back up to face the light. And each night, you’d give it a final check, occasionally singing it a lullaby. Yes, it was silly, but you couldn’t help but do everything to help it grow

But nearly a month later, still nothing. You bit your knuckle as you paced your rooftop garden, the pot now being placed in the sunshine during the day, some netting to protect it from birds and rodents, trying to figure out why there hadn’t been any sprouts. Perhaps the breed was a slow growing one, saving up energy for a robust bloom in the fall. Yes, that would be the reason. But, to ease your mind, you decided to check out with some of your acquaintances that had participated in the competition. Nothing too intrusive, not spying, just to see how everything was going for them.

Your downstairs neighbor, a young woman who worked at the corner cafe, smiled when you asked how progress was going.    
“It’s going wonderful!” she exclaimed, and quickly showed off her pot. To your dismay, the healthy shoots spiked out two inches out of the soil, a good week and half of growth.   
“Yours must be twice this size!” your neighbor gushed, “you’re such a good person with all types of plants! Do you mind showing me?”   
“I uh..” you scrambled to find an excuse, “I don’t want to disturb the growing plants more than necessary at this stage,” which was true, if your plant had a chance of growing healthy at this point, it couldn’t be put under any stress.

“Ah, understandable...well,” she looked back at her plant like a loving mother looking proudly at her baby, “May the best gardener win!” 

The door shut in your face, as you glumly went up the stairs to your apartment…

_ Yes, may the best gardener win… _

* * *

Summer came with a flash of heat, and even though your flowers hadn’t even so much peeked out of the soil, you continually did your routine of watering, fertilizing, and caring for the apparently lifeless pot. You still had hope...you HAD to keep up hope. One of those seeds had to be viable, just waiting to burst out like one of those prank snakes in a can….but nothing.

It didn’t help that everywhere you went, from your work at the library, to the market, all you could hear was women bragging about how healthy, how large, and how vibrant their budding plants were. In fact, some of the ladies would go in public, either carrying their plants to show them off, with glossy green leaves, or if they were upper class, have a servant follow behind them, lugging the pot around, like a governess watching over their child.

Unfortunately, a new law had to be passed, after a half dozen women got into a full out brawl in the piazza, each fighting for the right to having the ‘best’  chrysanthemum , to ban the carrying of plants in the marketplace, except for the purposes of sale. Thankfully, the only casualties of the savage fight was several pots and their unfortunate occupants….and the hopes and dreams of their owners.

And yet, seeing all these plants, hearing the boasts about how well they grew, just depressed you. You had worked so, so hard… and nothing. How could you show up with a pot of dirt, while surrounded by such wonderful specimens? You might as well drop out of the contest, and save yourself the humiliation.

* * *

Two weeks before the Fall market fair was set to begin, Sarah came over to your house. You hadn’t let anyone in, ashamed at your failure, terrified you’d be laughed out of town for not being able to raise a plant as hardy and simple to grow as a Chrysanthemum. But...Sarah was different, she didn’t have a stake in the whole contest.

“How’s the Chryth- I mean the Mum growing business?” She innocently asked, unaware of your summer of troubles “it’s gotta be, like six feet tall, with your skills. Prince Vergil’s gonna be knocked out of his royal pants when he sees yours, eh?”

It was time to break the truth, both to your friend… and yourself. “I’m… I’m not going to the fair.”

It took Sarah a moment, while she blinked, once, twice...three times. 

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE NOT GOING?!”

You led her up to the rooftop, the sun of a late afternoon warming the nape of your neck, to show her the shallow blue pot, without a hint of green.   
“Nothing grew...I did everything I was supposed to, I watered, I fertilized, I made sure it wasn’t too cold or too hot...and still...nothing” Even now, you tried to make sure the tears that dribbled down your cheeks didn’t splash into the soil, salt water would be bad for the seeds. “I can’t go...can’t show everyone what a failure I was. Everyone else will have beautiful flowers, and all I’ll have...is this.”

Sarah rubbed your shoulder in support, but her voice was firm. “You should still bring it. I know you, I know you put a heart and soul into raising those seeds, I can feel it. Bring it to the fair, and if Prince Vergil can’t sense about how much love you shoved into every seed, then fuck him, he ain’t worth your time.” She wiped your tears with a tissue, helping you calm down. Perhaps she had a point. You had done everything you could, you couldn’t be blamed for neglect. “Honestly, your mum is personally my favourite all this year.”

Perplexed, you looked at your friend.

“Everyone is growing these damn things. I think I’m gonna puke if I get another whiff of a mum. Yours smells the nicest.”

At least, Sarah’s sense of humour lightened your spirits, if only a little.

* * *

Sarah wasn’t wrong. The overpowering smell of hundreds of white blooms blotted over the traditional scents of the autumn fair, such as apple pie or roast pork. And instead of the the mooing and baaing of prizewinning cows and sheep, all you could hear were the titterings and gossip of the young women of the city, each bragging about how hard they worked to grow their flowers, how much love and care they’d placed into each glossy leaf, on how it was a certainty that they’d catch the Prince’s eye.

You tried to stay as inconspicuous as possible, and mostly you succeeded, as everyone was more focused on their own plant, or giving out disapproving looks at their nearby rival’s. But every so often, a lady would look down confused at your pot, before giving a small pitying smile. You could even tell your otherwise perfectly nice downstairs neighbor was secretly relieved that she didn’t have any competition from you.

The only one who paid attention to you, without judgement, was Sarah, who gave you an encouraging smile.

“After this, let’s go to the bar and get so plastered you forget this entire summer, my treat!” she chirped, and you couldn’t help but smile. In truth, you really wanted to wipe this whole debacle out of your memory for the rest of your life. Just a few more minutes to go….

The sound of the herald’s bell silenced the crowd, and all the contestants stood up a bit straighter, some checking both their dresses and plants one last time, ready to present their best. Even you couldn’t help doing the same.

“HEAR YE! HEAR YE!” The stiff man called out, ringing his bell one last time. “THE JUDGMENT WILL NOW BEGIN,” a group of finely dressed people, apparently the judges, stood up, but the Herald continued, “WITH BOTH PRINCE DANTE AND PRINCE VERGIL AS THE FINAL ARBITRATORS.” Everyone, including yourself, did a collective gulp as the familiar colours of Crimson and Azure appeared on the platform. Both men were dressed to perfection, their gold tasseled lapels shining in the fall sunlight, their black pants perfectly pressed. But their looks on their faces seemed cold...almost upset. Even the usually jovial smile on the younger twin was gone, replaced by a worried frown. But that was nothing in comparison with Vergil’s face. He looked...disgusted. Surrounded by some of the most gorgeous flowers you had ever seen, and he yet, seemed to be repulsed by them all as his eyes scanned the crowd. If these plants weren’t up to his high standards, your pot didn’t have a chance.

“I told you this was a terrible idea…” you heard him mutter, presumably to his brother, “Not a single woman has what I am looking for...the dishonesty of it all. When we get home, I don’t care how much mother protests, you will regret ever suggestin-” he stopped. His eyes were fixed at one point, and everyone followed his line of sight…

_ that led to you and your little barren pot.  _   
  


Without warning, Prince Vergil quickly stepped down the wooden stairs, his footsteps steady but his frantic pace betraying something more. Even now, as he approached, you thought that maybe he was looking at the lady beside you, a smaller than average plant, but one with many, many healthy white blooms. That MUST be who he was interested in. His face wasn’t as upset as before, but you couldn’t tell what his exact feelings were. But as he got closer, now a few paces away, his eyes never left you, and you couldn’t help it, you averted your eyes, partially out of deference, partially out of fear. Was he offended that you had dared bring this failure to be judged? Your heart pounded so loud, you could barely make out the sound of his footsteps stopping before you, the only reason you could tell he was there, was his shiny black leather shoes halting in front of you.

“Your name?” he demanded, but not as harshly as you had feared. You gave it out, your voice trembling.

“And this…” his long, elegant fingers grazed against the edge of the blue glaze, “is your attempt at growing a White  Chrysanthemum ?” Strange, you’d expected him to be dismissive, but there was a sense of earnestness in the questition.   
You nodded, trying to get the words out. “Y-yes, My Lord. I did...I did everything I could...I watered, I fertilized, I gave the seeds all the sunlight it could ever need, but…” You couldn’t keep back the sob that burst from your throat, and tears dribbled down your cheeks. You were so ashamed at your failure.

Unexpectedly, you felt warm fingers on your chin, gently lifting your face up, to finally look up at him. You’d never been so close to the Prince before, and he was even more handsome up close. And that hard expression that once there, was gone, replaced by something that confused you. It looked like...admiration? But for what?

“You were the only one, out of everyone here,” he spoke softly, for your ears alone, “who didn’t hide behind lies...you did all you could, and didn’t hide your supposed ‘failure.’” The way he emphasised that last word puzzled you and you gave him a quizzical look. He smiled softly and pulled out a silk blue handkerchief to wipe your tears away. 

“Ladies and Gentleman!” Dante strode up to front of the platform, temporarily ripping everyone’s attention from you and the Prince. He had a grin that looked like he had been keeping it in for weeks, or even months. “I’d like to make a VERY IMPORTANT announcement.” He took a breath, obviously savouring the moment. “You see, when we gave out those seeds...well, before we brought them out...we boiled them, the entire batch. Therefore…” he trailed off allowing the quicker members assembled to place the pieces together. “None of the seeds should be growing anything, you might as well used them for bug spray” 

Panicked gasps came from the women, each rapidly looking at each other, and then down at the pots they held. A sound of shattering clay as several pots smashed from being dropped by some of the shocked ladies, who quickly ran for the exit of the fair, the crowds parting away for them.

Dante yanked the bell out of the Herald’s hand, and rang it, signalling everyone to settle down. “See, what my dear brother wanted in a woman wasn’t a good gardener, although there’s nothing wrong with that. Verg’s pretty handy at growing stuff…” his grin softened to genuine pride, “No, what he wanted was a woman who could be truthful to him, not try to flatter him with lies to soothe his pride and ego… And trust me, his ego is as big as it is....”

Vergil swung his head over to his younger brother, scowling momentarily, cutting the speech off. But, slowly, he turned back to you, his fingers stroking the rapidly dry tear tracks on your cheeks. “I..know this… whole turn of events is rather sudden and unexpected...but...will,” he struggled with the words, the first time you had ever seen him this nervous, “will you take me?”

Your eyes watered up with tears, but not out of grief, but of happiness. You smiled, and nodded, not trusting your voice to say anything. He almost seemed surprised at your assent, standing stock still momentarily, before his smile blossomed fully as he took your hand and led you through the quickly parting crowds, as a large amount of cheers erupted in congratulations, celebrating Fortuna’s newest Princess. 

You felt a brush against your shoulder, and heard the voice of Sarah’s at your ear. “I knew you could do it!” She was barely audible above the crowd, “Now...would Your Royal Highness mind putting a good word for me with Prince Dante?...”


End file.
